An Evil Eye

119

“ There’s nothing I could possibly want that you could ever give me, Fevzi Ahmet.”

The pasha smiled. “No? Think of your father, Yashim. The governor. Poor old man. He died, I’m told, still trying to find out who brought such dishonor on his family.”

A stubborn look came into Yashim’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well, well. His wife-the lovely Greek girl? Manhandled, shall we say, before they slit her throat? At least she got to see who gelded her only son, before she died. I’m told she was allowed to watch.”

Yashim’s lip peeled back.

“The governor’s son,” Fevzi Ahmet went on, in the same musing tone. “Not quite a son, anymore. Very sad, for everyone. And embarrassing for the old man, wasn’t it? With all his power, not knowing who. Not knowing why. His wife dishonored and dead, and his son castrated. Who did it? He never found out. Too much grief. Some people said it pushed him into an early grave.”

Yashim closed his eyes. “I don’t care, anymore.”

“If I thought about the wife I never had, the children… I think I would still dream about that cave. My mother’s screams.”

“My mother’s screams?” It took Yashim a violent effort to control his voice. She hadn’t screamed, the woman with the laughing eyes. But he had been forced to watch her die.

“I find things out, Yashim. I knew years ago.” He stepped closer: just not quite close enough-he had measured the distance carefully. “So if you can rescue my daughter-and help me get away-I’ll tell you.”

He opened the door. “I hope you can find your own way out, Yashim. I’d give you a candle, but in the circumstances it would be foolish, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” Yashim had hardly spoken when the stench rolling up the stairs answered his question.

Paraffin oil.

On the landing he could hear one of Fevzi Pasha’s men, sloshing fuel across the floorboards below.

“Just in case you thought of mounting a daring rescue,” Fevzi Ahmet said. “A fire is very effective, and leaves nothing behind-as I well know. It took the yali ten minutes to burn to the ground. The bodies went up in smoke. My wife’s coffin, as it happens, contained a quantity of ash and a piece of bone. Her silver bangles had fused to it. That’s how I knew.”